


let thy wander

by clarksibs



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, clarke goes for a walkabout and ends up with a little more than she bargained for, lexa's a little bit of a stalker but really just wants clarke to be safe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-16 15:22:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarksibs/pseuds/clarksibs
Summary: She decides then that she does want to keep moving forward, if only to see what life is like when she doesn't have people strapping themselves to her like a lifeline. When her sole concern can be herself.Or Clarke takes a well-earned sabbatical and works through some things.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Welcome to my new story......

It's a wonder she doesn't die within the first week. She walks without purpose and without pause until her feet are blistered and her stomach screaming and her mouth too dry to open. Her brain is too fuzzy to form coherent thoughts so her body is left in control. Clarke isn't sure how long she's been gone, but she knows she's too far for them to find her so for the first time since she walked away, she releases the stubborn hold on her body and falls to the ground.

 

If she wasn't so numb she'd probably be having a panic attack. She can feel one creeping up her chest, threatening to tighten around her lungs, but she doesn't have the energy to commit to any sort of physical strain so she slumps to the side and closes her eyes there in the middle of the forest.

 

The sun is high overhead, sprinkling daylight through the overhanging limbs when she finally wakes. She can think again which she immediately decides isn't a good thing when the pragmatic side of her begins to berate her about not eating, drinking, or sleeping for days. Not to mention the fact that she just spent God knows how long undefended in the middle of nowhere. As far as she knows, she could be in a Grounder clan's territory.

 

Clarke forces herself to sit up and lean her weight against the tree closest to her. She has two option before her, one leads to sure death and the other at least helps her survive through the day. It's a startling moment when she has to consider if she actually wants to live, if going on is even worth it. She has spent so long keeping herself moving simply out of spite, just because the only way to keep her friends alive was if she was there to drag them along with her. But they don't need her anymore, she can be done with saving the day.

 

She decides then that she does want to keep moving forward, if only to see what life is like when she doesn't have people strapping themselves to her like a lifeline. When her sole concern can be herself.

 

With shaking limbs she pulls herself to her feet. After stumbling over her confused body a few times she's able to steady herself enough to begin walking. She vaguely remembers hearing a river sometime during the last leg of her journey but she forces herself not to get her hopes up, she could have easily made it up or dreamt it last night. Either way, she needs water and it's her only chance at finding some so she starts back the way she came.

 

Part of Clarke hates the thought of giving up any of the ground she covered, back tracking feels like admitting defeat. She has to remind herself that she isn't racing against her people, she's racing against the earth and that's more important than anything.

 

She gets lost more than once. Thinks she recognizes one of the trees she passed in her wandering haze and starts heading in its direction only to get herself so turned around that she has no idea what direction she originally started in. She continues walking with no luck until dusk falls. The forest is growing louder around her, crickets chirp and birds sing their last songs of the day when she finally stumbles out of the thick cropping of trees and onto the rocky bank of a river.

 

That's the first time Clarke cries since leaving her people. Swollen, hot tears stream down her cheeks with no sign of stopping and no reason for their start. She's too overwhelmed to make it the water before she collapses, knees dropping forcefully onto the hard shore.

 

She rocks forward until the back of her hands press into the ground and her palms cradle her face. Clarke sobs longer than she can fathom. Every horror that she's witnessed presses upon her. Whether by her hand or another's the weight of them crush her until she can hardly breathe. She sees the look on Lexa's face as she returned to tell her of her betrayal. Remembers the child like hope she felt before realizing how wrong she actually was. How, despite their outcomes, pulling a level is simple.

  
She sees Finn standing before a slaughtered village as he smiles at her as if he hadn't just crossed a line he'd never be able to step over again. Clarke thinks of the way Octavia looked at her like she was a monster and how Raven couldn't stand to be near her for weeks and how Maya looked wrapped in Jasper's arms. That look her mother got as if just maybe Clarke was exactly the person she raised.

 

Clarke relives it all over and over as waves of grief roll through her. Distantly, she hears the snap of a branch behind her in the woods, knows she should get up, should see what's there, should run, should hide, but she stays hunched over before the river.

 

Dark falls hours before her tears cease. The moon is above her when she's finally able to breathe without drawing out another sob. Clarke rights herself with a heavy breath and a pitiful sniff. For the first time, she realizes that her legs are throbbing and her ankles numb. Slowly, she leans back until she can hold up her weight enough to stretch out one and then the other leg. They feel worse this way but she knows it's just because of the rush of blood to her extremities and grumbles at herself that she has to wait it out.

 

Eventually, her pain subsides and her now even more dehydrated body begins to beg herself to crawl towards the water. Despite everything that she just relived, she doesn't know how she had been able to sit there for so many hours without her body's craving breaking through her resolve. If there was any saliva left in her she's sure she would be drooling. She doesn't waste any time using her hands as a cup, instead just dunks her head under the waterline and starts gulping.

 

Between the painfully cold river and the fact that when she breaks the surface her belly is filled with water, Clarke is completely clear headed in what feels like weeks. Thus, when she realizes that it really is entirely dark and she's completely alone, she panics.

 

Immediately, Clarke falls into old habits. Her brain focuses solely on the problem at hand, does nothing but search for the solution. It's something her mother taught her when she was training in the med bay. It's probably what ultimately led her to this place.

 

She considers getting high into a tree until it's light enough to find somewhere safer but instantly dismisses it. Her arms were barely strong enough to pull her to the river's edge, she'd never be able to climb a tree in this state. Lighting a fire seems dangerous, even if it didn't signal any Grounders an animal may see it and come to investigate. She fears wandering around in the darkness and not being able to find her way back to the water. When she's exhausted all avenues and doesn't find anything better than staying on the bank for the night, she relents to her situation.

 

Using her last bit of strength she heaves herself off her belly and to her feet. With wavering steps, she makes it far enough into the woods that she won't have to sleep with the sharp bank of rocks as her bed. Clarke lets her body slink down a tree to the floor of the forest and then lies down from there. Sleep is harder this time now that she's finally truly awake and aware, it's harder to quiet her ravaging mind and growling stomach. But eventually, it does come.

 

When she slow blinks away her sleep the next morning a small package lies directly in front of her in the dirt. She's still for a moment, tries to wrap her still sleep fogged mind around what she is seeing. Carefully, she reaches out a hand and brings it closer to examine. It's made of a rough and sturdy fabric and tied together with a thin piece of twine.

 

With shaking fingers she begins to pick at the loose knot, not yet letting herself question just where the gift had come from. Or if it was a gift at all. Easily, the twine falls away and lying in her palm is a pile of dried meat. Clarke almost cries again.

 

She holds one piece up her eyes and then to her nose—- and then she stuffs the entire thing into her mouth. If it's poisoned, at least she'll die with a full stomach. When she's done furiously chewing the first a second quickly follows. The meat is slightly gamey but the spices are rich and different than any she's ever tasted before so she continues wolfing them down with no complaint.

 

With a wipe of her now greasy fingertips to her pants, Clarke rights herself. Her vision sways just a little but settles fairly quickly. She's able to stand, and even walk to the water's edge, without feeling like she's going to collapse at any moment. At the river, she fills her waterskin, the one she can't actually remember emptying but must have in the days since leaving Camp Jaha, and takes several large swallows.

 

You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay. Clarke makes herself repeat it in her mind like a mantra until it's her only truth.

 

And so life continues forward. Five days into her stay at the river she finds a cave carved into the mountain side on the opposite bank of the one she had been sleeping on. There's no sign of life or past inhabitants so Clarke happily claims it for her own and sets about fortifying it. Within days she has a tightly woven barrier made of vines and fallen branches big enough to conceal the entryway, and hopefully protect her from the elements.

 

Almost every morning she wakes to find another package. For the first few nights she tried to discover who it was that was leaving them but could never keep herself awake long enough to watch for them, nor did they leave any sort of discernable tracks. If she took the time to actually consider it, she knows who they're from. But she doesn't want to think about that so she continues living without questioning her benefactor.

 

She's begun to teach herself to hunt, spends hours trooping through the forest as quietly as she can while she attempts to track game. At first, she's timid about abandoning her river and wandering into the thicket, but a solution is quickly at hand. After three weeks she has at least the first mile from the cave marked with knotted strips of twine hanging from low-hanging branches and she's starting on the second.

 

It's a month before she kills something bigger than the usual squirrels and what she assumes are, and tries not to dwell too long on, overgrown rats. She could have easily continued relying on the person leaving her food but she wanted to be able to keep herself alive, didn't want to keep leaning on someone she couldn't even see. Clarke is four miles from the cave when she spots a lone deer, one of its legs bent at a seemingly painful angle. She tells herself it's merciful to kill it and throws the dagger she's been practicing with every day. It hits right through the doe's head and suddenly Clarke has more food than she knows what to do with. Plus a pelt to use as a blanket. She's fucking elated.

 

No longer does she receive packages every day, she guesses she's proven her ability to take care of herself, but about once a week something else is delivered. A new fur or a book or an article of clothing (suspiciously always her size and always one she just ruined).

 

Clarke's life is quiet and serenely perfect. She idly wonders one day while she's cleaning a panther's pelt and readying it to dry, why she was ever so afraid of Earth. Maybe she was only concerned because she felt so responsible for everyone around her. Darkly, she chuckles to herself, she has no one to fret over now.

 

She startles when the sound of laughter leaves her mouth, the realization that she has not spoken aloud in four months washes over her. Clarke opens and closes her mouth several times before forcing herself to speak, "stop being ridiculous."

 

It feels good. She begins singing songs her father played for her on the ark after that.

 

She's six months into her retreat, and that is how she sees it: an escape, when she hears another voice streaming towards her through the woods. She's already five miles from the cave and half of her begs to turn around and go home, to not involve herself in whatever is calling her deeper into the forest. The other half reasons that it was a cry of distress. So Clarke Griffin once again marches off to stick her nose where it does not belong.

 

She eventually learned how to walk silently through the brush, trained her feet to glide over the sticks and dry leaves so she doesn't make a sound. Further and further she pushes herself past her self-assigned borders until she doesn't even recognize any of the trees, yet still, she's confident she could find her way back easily.

 

Another cry comes from just North of where she was heading so she adjusts and keeps on. The first thing she notices when she reaches the place she thinks the noise came from is the rustling bundle of rags that rests below a large tree. Clarke holds her breath and stills her body, she stays behind a tree and watches the area until another squeal rings out and she almost jumps out of her skin at the surprise. Silently, she scolds herself for being startled but begins moving forward none the less.

 

Every few steps she sweeps her gaze through the trees for any signs of movement but doesn't see any. She's nearly ten feet from the bundle when an arm pushes out of the wrappings and a child wriggles itself the rest of the way free. A happy gurgle bursts from the, from what Clarke can tell from where she is, young girl, apparently quite proud of herself for escaping her bindings.

 

Quickly, the child looks around herself eyes passing over Clarke clearly searching for something specific. Or someone.

 

"Okay," Clarke mutters to herself, "Okay okay you can handle this Griffin, you're fine." She forces herself to take a few calming breaths and calm her racing heart.

 

She keeps asking herself where the little girl's parents were. Are they coming back? Was she left here deliberately? And then she stops. A cold shiver runs down her spine as she remembers something Lincoln once told her about people leaving deformed babies in the woods so they wouldn't contaminate the gene pool.

 

Suddenly Clarke is furious.

 

"Hi," Clarke says gently, keeping her voice as even and friendly as much as she can muster after not speaking to anyone for half a year. "What could you possibly be doing out here all on your own, hmm?"

 

The girl's eyes dart to Clarke's the moment she starts speaking, her face lighting up at the attention. In a movement that is clearly too fast, she wobbles to her feet, nearly falling over in the process. Clarke is about to reach out to steady her but she has it in hand before she can help. With a serious look on her face, the child takes a few teetering steps until she's right before Clarke. She studies her for a moment and then reaches her arms up in a motion that could only mean she's asking to be picked up.

 

Clarke's only experience with children is from her time working in the med bay. Sick kids usually don't want attention so she didn't interact with them much. Which is why when she bends down to pull the girl into her arms her entire body is stiff.

 

The girl stares into Clarke's face as if trying to find something there. But she's sure she doesn't find it because her previous smile droops a little. "'Mon," she whines softly, "'mon?"

 

She glances away from Clarke and twists in her arms so she can once more look around them. The area is completely empty save for them so she turns back to Clarke and asks again. "'Mon?"

 

It takes her a moment longer to realize what she's looking for, what every lost child wants. "Nomon?" The child visibly perks up. "I don't know where your nomon is, little grounder."

 

A feeling of unease creeps into the forest she's come to love.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again ♡

Clarke studies the child as she picks her way back towards her cave. She's careful to tie a length of twine on the tree she found her under so tomorrow she can come back and investigate but the sun in lowering quickly and she doesn't think either of them should be out there after dark.

 

The little grounder has a healthy crop of dark brown curls atop her head and excited green eyes. When she babbles at Clarke and opens her mouth to laugh at her own nonsensical joke a handful of small teeth become visible. That with her wobbly steps she puts her age at around one. She hasn't stopped to look her over properly but nothing obvious looks wrong with her. As far as Clarke can tell she's perfectly healthy—- and oddly happy in a stranger's arms.

 

"I can't keep calling you Little Grounder," Clarke reasons as she passes back into her claimed territory. "What did your family call you, huh?"

 

She doesn't expect a reply but the girl's chatter is amusing none the less.

 

She finds herself talking as she treks quietly through the woods. Sometimes she points out a specific kind of tree or low-lying plant and tells her what they're used for and which ones she shouldn't touch. Others, she just trades riddles back and forth with the girl in their differing languages.

 

Twilight is blanketing the river when they finally arrive. Carefully, and with more trepidation than usual, Clarke picks her way across the water with the help of some well-placed boulders. It's been months since she's lost her balance and tumbled into the lazily flowing water below but the weight of another life in her arms makes her sigh heavily with relief when her boots finally hit the bank.

 

"Okay, little one," Clarke says in what she hopes sounds like a serious tone, "you can shack up with me tonight but it's back to your village tomorrow—- Where ever that is."

 

She slides back the cover to her cave and eases her way past it before letting it fall back into place. It's completely dark inside but her eyes adjust quickly and she easily makes her way over to the firepit and sits them both of them before it. The child seems content to sit in her lap as she works so she leaves her there and with both hands now free works on getting a fire going. It doesn't take her long and soon the cave is lit and a homey warmth is spreading through it.

 

From the entrance to the back wall is about fifteen feet but from the back, another section juts out further. To the right lies a hollow, this one circular and a little smaller. The perfect place for a nest of furs. Clarke rises and deposits the girl in her bed so she can start on dinner. Before her, she places several rocks she had painting, all too big to fit in her mouth but small enough for her to lift.

 

When Clarke is sufficiently assured that she's preoccupied, she returns to the fire to begin dinner. She works around what has become her kitchen area until she's produced a stew. It took her several bouts of food poisoning to master what she should and shouldn't put in it but she feels confident enough with it now to serve it to the young girl.

 

She ladles some into a wooden bowl and makes her way back to her sleeping quarters and lowers herself to the ground in front of her guest. With careful concentration, she blows until it's cool and then offers her a spoonful of broth. It's a messy, uncoordinated affair but she eventually fills her tummy enough that she loses interest in eating and goes back to studying the rocks so Clarke can finish the rest of the bowl herself.

 

Before she tucks the girl into her bed, Clarke goes over her with a fine tooth comb. She covers one of her eyes and then the other to make sure she can see with both and repeats the process with her ears. She checks her feet and her fingers for any deformity but can't find any. Clarke presses her ear to her chest and listens to her heart and lungs but doesn't find a problem there either. As far as she can tell, the babe is perfectly healthy—- Which almost makes her worry that much more.

 

That night Clarke falls asleep with a baby clutching her chest.

 

They spend the next two weeks hunting for the girl's family. Together, with the girl in her arms, they trek through the woods. Starting from the tree, Clarke walks three miles in every direction but never finds any sign of civilization.

 

Four days into her search, Clarke swears she sees a grounder flit through the trees but they were gone so quickly that she convinces herself it was in her head.

 

Over this time Clarke discovers much about child rearing. She quickly learns that deer pelt makes excellent diapers and is soon proficient at holding down a squirming, giggling child and tying a cloth around her hips. There's also the fact that children are loud—- and fast. She's been so used to the silence of the forest that for the first few days, every time she would chatter or giggle it would startle Clarke. During the days, she used to leave the cover off the entrance to her cave to let light in but it became obvious that that was a hazard as every time the girl would fancy a gander out of their dwelling, she would run at top speed towards the river. Luckily each time Clarke was quick enough to grab her but eventually, she had to weave a new cover that was tall enough to keep the girl in but short enough that they got light.

 

Each day during their walk Clarke fired off names she'd heard since reaching the ground in hopes of stumbling across the girl's but she never seemed to recognize any. On the fifteenth day, when she'd finally exhausted all of her options of finding her home, Clarke breaks down and gives her one.

 

"Elva, no that's hot," Clarke suddenly gasps, turning just in time to see the girl reaching out towards the fire.

 

Elva spins to her with a pout on her face but listens none the less. She teeters back over to Clarke and away from their cooking dinner. She latches herself to Clarke's nearest leg and tips her head up to watch her paint across the cave wall.

 

It's an hour before Clarke realizes that she had called her by the name she'd had floating around her head, a 'just in case' if she wasn't able to find her parents. That's also the day she starts thinking of Elva as hers.

 

Three months pass without Clarke noticing. Elva keeps her on her toes with her growing amount of energy but she finds herself laughing and smiling more than can ever remember doing before. They take strolls through the woods and Clarke tries to teach her English and what little Trigedasleng she remembers. They swim in the river and paint and sometimes Clarke will tell her stories of a boat that lived in the sky.

 

Elva has five new teeth and can say 'Clarke' when Lexa arrives at the mouth of their home.

 

Before she sees her, Clarke hears movement along the riverbank. If she hadn't been training her ears she wouldn't have heard it but by the time anyone moves into view, she has Elva hiding in the corner of their bedroom and she has her dagger pulled, standing five feet back from the mouth.

 

It's been nearly ten months and Clarke can't decide if she want's to tell her she's missed her, or if she wants to kill her.

 

For Lexa's credit, she looks as unthreatening as Clarke's ever seen her. As far as Clarke can tell she's not carrying any weapons, though she wouldn't want to test that, and none of her armor weighs her down. She looks almost—- normal. It throws Clarke off and she finds herself standing there staring with no idea how to react.

 

"I didn't," Lexa pauses, "I wanted to give you time to yourself. I didn't want to push myself into your space until you were ready."

 

Lexa looks at Clarke with wide, gazing eyes as if she's never seen the sky before, and just now is. She looks entranced. And she looks nervous.

 

Clarke doesn't reply, doesn't lower her dagger, so Lexa rambles on.

 

"You showed no signs of leaving and I couldn't wait any longer," Lexa says. "I know that there's a chance that you still hate me, and if you do I'll leave you alone, for good, but if you no longer do—-"

 

Her words draw out into silence and it takes Clarke a few pounding heartbeats to reply.

 

"So the supplies—- that was one of your people? You had someone watching me?" She's known, from the very first one, but it feels good to confirm it.

 

Lexa nods.

 

Clarke studies her a second longer before lowering the hand that is holding the knife but still keeping it ready if she needs it.

 

"Why try and keep me alive when nearly a year ago you left me to die at the mountain?" There is no real venom behind her words, all of that seeped out of her months ago, but she's still bitter.

 

"Clarke," Lexa breathes, "If you only know one thing about my choices on that mountain, know that nothing I have ever done has pained me as much as that did. That being said, it was the only way to get my people out and so I do not regret it. But I do wish that I had not hurt you the way I did. In that I am sorry. I _am_ sorry, Clarke."

 

"I have had a lot of time to think through every option we could have chosen that day," Clarke says, "and I know now that none of them were good. No matter what we did, people would have died. Yours, mine, theirs—- it doesn't matter. Death clung to that mountain like fog, getting your people out of the blast zone was smart. Even if it took me a long time to see it that way, even if I'm still not okay with your leaving."

 

"Not many see it the way you do." Lexa's voice is soft but her tone holds a hint of something Clarke can't identify.

 

"What does that mean?" Clarke raises her brows in confusion.

 

"My people are calling you Wanheda," Lexa's lips twitch, "because you brought down the mountain. They're calling me weak because I ran from it."

 

Clarke doesn't know if she wants to comfort the woman before her or tell her her people are right, so she doesn't respond. Instead, she kicks at the stone floor and asks something she's wanted to know for months.

 

“Can I ask why you didn’t intervene sooner if you had someone watching?” Clarke’s face is suddenly filled to the brim with vulnerability. She thinks of the earliest days of her self-banishment that she has no recollection of. "Not that I'm pleased knowing that you had someone spying on me."

 

Lexa considers her for a moment. “I wanted you to make the decision to live before I did anything. If you,” she trips there, the words hard to say, “If you had decided to give up I would have immediately brought you back to Polis against your will if I had to. But I thought I owed you enough to at least give you the time to choose.”

 

Clarke opens her mouth to reply but behind her, deeper within the cave, comes a rustle of furs and a small voice, "Clarke?" It turns up at the end like a question, like asking permission to leave her hiding spot and come investigate the first new voice she's heard in months.

 

Lexa's eyes move past Clarke but slide back to her when the source of the sound remains hidden from sight. A small smile slides over her lips.

 

"I was told you had a child," she says. "My scout was surprised when he returned after a week away to find you ferrying a child around the woods on your hip. I worried he was going mad, so I sent someone else the next week and still, she reported the same."

 

At the mention of Elva, the knife raises again by a hair and Clarke takes half a step back. A mother bear readying to protect her cub.

 

"I mean the child no harm, Clarke. My word may not mean anything to you but I swear I wish nothing but good to befall her."

 

Clarke returns the knife to her side once more but still keeps her defensive position, somewhat startled by her sudden reaction.

 

"I found her in the forest but I've never been able to find her family." Clarke finds that she wants to defend herself, as if Lexa may think she stole the child. "I spent weeks traipsing through the trees trying to find her village but I never found anyone. She's called Elva now."

 

"Unfortunately, leaving unwanted children to the elements is not uncommon amongst my people. I wish it were not true but you saved her from sure death."

 

Clarke gazes over her shoulder as if to look through the wall of rock separating her and Elva, a sudden sorrow gripping her stomach. The thought of not having her, never coming across her devastates Clarke.

 

"I do not want to intrude much longer, I am sure you and Elva have a routine to get back to. I will take my leave now and allow you to return to your life." She turns to go and then pauses, "I am glad to see you so well, Clarke."

 

When she reaches the mouth of the cave Clarke speaks, loud enough to make her stop in her tracks.

 

"Next week," she starts, "instead of having a scout come spy on us, would you return yourself?"

 

It's baby steps, Clarke reasons. Seeing her once a week. Plus, it feels really good to speak to another adult.

 

"I'll always return if you want me to." With another smile and a nod, Lexa disappears from view.

 

"Okay little one," Clarke murmurs as she pads back to their bedroom, "you can come out now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there's your Lexa! Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter. I hope everyone is having a good weekend so far!!


	3. Chapter 3

The week passes as most do these days, slowly and then all at once. Before Clarke realizes it, the seventh day has begun and she finds herself watching the other side of the river for an approaching figure.

 

Elva and Clarke spend the morning wandering through the woods to gather berries to mix into paint and a bundle of sticks that Elva refuses to leave behind. They sit a few feet from the cave to enjoy the sun's warmth and between them lay a variety of bowls already beginning to fill with thick substances with varying hues.

 

Clarke's blending a batch that will eventually be a dark shade of blue when movement in the forest across from them catches her eye and she looks up to find Lexa tying a white horse to a low-hanging limb. She's dressed just as she was during her last visit, light clothes and no weapons visibly attached to her. The normality of the view, her sitting lazing before the river with a babe giggling while Lexa looks as if she were the least fearsome person in the world, makes Clarke smile.

 

When Lexa turns to make her way across, she catches Clarke's smile and her lips twitch in response. Clarke points out the woman to Elva as she hops from one rock to another, feet agile and light.

 

A look of confusion flits across Elva's face and she scurries back until she's squirming into Clarke's lap, still facing forward so she can watch the stranger's approach. With her, Lexa carries a fur folded around something hard and bulky.

 

"I wasn't sure if you would actually come," Clarke admits. "I know you said you were going to but—- I guess I just need to work on trust again."

 

"I'll always try to keep my promises, Clarke." The underlying meaning is not lost one Clarke. If it's a choice between her and Lexa's people, her people will always come first. As they should.

 

Lexa directs her attention to the girl in Clarke's lap, an easy smile stretches her lips. "Hello, little Elva." She lowers herself to the ground in front of them by about three feet, giving everyone enough space if not comfortable. "I brought you something."

 

From inside the covering, she pulls a small drum and a leather helmed mallet, both looking as if specially made to fit a child's hand. Clarke desperately wants to roll her eyes, of course, the already noisy one-year-old needed something even nosier. She looks from Lexa down to Elva and finds a curious look of glee molding her features and knows that there's no hope in convincing her that it won't be fun. The grin on Lexa's face tells her she knew exactly what she was doing.

 

Gently, Lexa hits the drum with the mallet and earns a peal of giggles from Elva, much to her delight. She stretches out until she can place the set right in front of the girl to let her investigate.

 

"Thank you," Clarke says, looking back up to Lexa, "it was nice of you to think of her."

 

Lexa incline her head, "Is there anything you need?"

 

The air begins to fill with the pounding of the drum. Both women can't help but chuckle at Elva's sheer joy.

 

"No," Clarke says through her laughter, "I've learned to take care of myself—- of us. Thank you, though."

 

"Do you plan on living here forever, the two of you?" Lexa drops her gaze back down to Elva so as to escape the burning blue eyes that tend to hold her captive.

 

It's easy to hear the invitation in her words, a silent plea to follow her to the capital.

 

"I'm not sure, Lexa." Clarke breath is suddenly heavy in her chest. "I try not to spend too much time worrying about the world... out there. I left because—- because I could no longer be who my people needed me to be. I just worry that if I were to become involved again, I'd change back to the person that I've tried so hard to get away from."

 

Lexa is still and silent as she takes in what Clarke has said. She watches Elva play for a moment longer but eventually gathers herself to drag her eyes back up to Clarke's.

 

"I would never ask that of you," Lexa promises. "If you ever decided that you would like to join me in Polis, you wouldn't have to make decisions like you've had to before. You could just live—- without worry."

 

"I don't think any of us get to live without worry. But thank you, I'll give it some thought, okay?"

 

"Thake your time."

 

Lexa leaves soon after that, the ride back to Polis is several hours and she wants to arrive before dark. She asks if she can return again the following week to which Clarke easily agrees. With a small wave at Elva, she's disappearing into the woods atop her steed.

 

When another week comes and goes, Lexa once again rides out to meet Clarke and Elva. She dismounts and ties her horse to the same tree as the last time but before she makes her way to the river, a set of tracks catches her attention. A pair of adult prints and those she assumes belong to Elva. There's no sign of them returning so she follows the trail out into the forest the opposite way she came.

 

After walking for several minutes a voice begins to drift towards her. As she makes her way closer Clarke's back and Elva sitting on her hip come into view. It surprises her to find Clarke singing. Her voice rings out and through the surrounding trees. It's easy to hear the smile through her words despite not being able to see her face. Lexa stands stock still so as to not ruin the moment with her presence.

 

"If you go out in the woods today you better go in disguise," Clarke sings. "For every bear that ever there was will gather there for certain because today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic."

 

Elva laughs and throughs her tiny head back, clutching tighter to Clarke's shoulder. Clarke joins in with her own chuckle and begins to move them further into the brush. It's only then that Lexa notices the basket she carries. It's already filled nearly to the top with mushrooms, flora, and an assortment of berries.

 

Purposefully, Lexa steps on a dry, fallen branch. She hoped that it would startle her less than calling out but still, Clarke spins to face her with a look of an animal that realizes it's cornered. Once she takes in that it's Lexa that was behind her, her shoulders drop and she smiles once more. Elva waves one of her chubby hands at Lexa and begins to chatter unintelligibly.

 

"I didn't mean to scare you," Lexa apologizes, "but I didn't want to interrupt your song. Is it from the ark, I didn't recognize it?"

 

Clarke blushes and ducks her head as she makes her way closer to Lexa. Without realizing she's doing it, Lexa reaches out and takes the basket from Clarke. Together they head back towards the cave.

 

"It was a nursery rhyme parents used to sing to their kids." At Lexa's furrowed brow and a confused tip of her head, Clarke tries to explain, "Like a lullaby? It's just something to entertain children. Do your people have songs for their kids?"

 

"We do," Lexa replies with a laugh, "but none of bears having meetings in the woods."

 

"You make up odd things when you're trapped in a box floating through space."

 

"Of course," Lexa replies with a mock-serious tone, "that makes sense."

 

Soon, a month worth of visits comes and goes and they fall into an easy pattern. Sometimes they take strolls through the forest and Elva will perch on Lexa's hip and she'll teach them the Trigedasleng names for the creatures and plants they find. Sometimes they sit in front of the river and quietly watch Elva make a mess with the paint they had just finished mixing. Once, when it's particularly hot out, Lexa rides up to find Clarke bobbing up and down in the water with Elva in her arms. It takes some coaxing but the commander eventually joins them.

 

The day of what should be her sixth visit nearly comes to a close before the telltale stomping of hooves comes into earshot. By the time midday came and went Clarke was in a state from worry. Nothing had ever kept Lexa from coming to them before. She understood of course that Lexa is important, that she was probably just held up in Polis and couldn't get away, but that didn't stop her from fretting over the other possible reasons.

 

The sun is setting, alighting Clarke's long mane of blonde hair as she stands and watches from the mouth of her home. She smiles wide and breathes easily for the first time in hours.

 

"I'm sorry I'm late," Lexa says as she reaches their bank and treads toward the cave. "I couldn't get the Delfikru ambassador to stop yelling at the Sankru ambassador."

 

"It's fine," Clarke laughs as if she hadn't been pacing for hours. With a step forward she hugs her, for the first time. The moment her arms wind around Lexa words tumble from her. "I want you to take us to Polis."

 

"What?" Lexa pulls back with a jerk, her eyes search Clarke's for some hidden answer. "When did this happen?"

 

"Just now, actually," Clarke shrugs. Like it's the least shocking thing she's ever said.

 

They're interrupted by a high-pitched, "'Exa!" before Lexa can reply and suddenly Elva is trotting through the tunnel as fast as her little feet can take her and towards their legs.

 

Stepping back from Clarke, Lexa bends and lets Elva run into her arms, swooping her into the air so she rests in her grasp. She looks over again but Clarke is already moving farther into the cave to poke at the pot of stew that is threatening to boil over.

 

"Are you staying for dinner?" she throws over her shoulder, casual as can be.

 

"I don't want to impose," Lexa replies, joining Clarke near the fire, curiously studying her.

 

Clarke rolls her eyes at her. "Of course you're not imposing, Lexa. I want you here, and now I want to be there. It just took me a while to realize it."

 

Lexa holds her tongue until she's deposited Elva on the rumpled furs and placed several of the wooden toys she's brought in front of her. With the child occupied she pads back to Clarke and stares at her pointedly until she has her full attention once again.

 

"What brought on this sudden change of plan," Lexa cocks her head to the side and Clarke has to bite her lip against a smile because Lexa's cute when she's confused. "I'm obviously happy, more than happy, but I want to make sure that this is what you really want. It's just sudden."

 

"You were late," Clarke blurts, "you were late and I realized that I didn't want to waste any more time. I needed to be out here, I know that. There was a piece of me that was broken but now it's healed. And so now I know I need to be in Polis." And then with a soft, barely there whisper, "It's what I want, promise."

 

"Really?" Lexa says just as quietly.

 

"Really," Clarke assures.

 

The resulting smile is blinding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Off to Polis we go! Let me know what you think!!


	4. Chapter 4

"I should leave," Lexa finally says, far after she should have.

 

Elva was put to bed long before, already having fallen asleep in Lexa's lap.

 

Clarke and Lexa sat up for hours after, discussing how everything would work when they were in Polis. Starting with when Clarke and Elva would leave. She wanted some time to prepare, to say goodbye to her forest and savor her last few days of solitary. It's decided that on the day Lexa usually visits, she'll bring an extra horse with her and they'll set off.

 

"What is life like in Polis?" Clarke asks as the sun begins to melt below the tree line.

 

Lexa watches the sky change colors for a short time before responding. "Big and loud and colorful and passionate. There are so many people, more than you'll find anywhere else. During the day market stands line the street selling anything you could think of, and at night music and laughter fills the air as people trickle home to their families. Others choose to stay out until nearly the next morning dancing and eating and watching exhibitions. It's an easy place to feel lonely though," she looks over to Clarke, "even surrounded by so many people."

 

Clarke ducks her head, smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "It sounds beautiful, I can't wait to see it."

 

They're silent again. Enjoying the stillness of one another's company.

 

But another question surges into Clarke's mind. "What will your people think of me? I mean me being there—- with you."

 

"The majority of my people believe that they owe you their lives for what you did at the mountain. They'll be nothing but pleased to know that you have chosen to live among them."

 

"And the others?" Clarke didn't miss the exclusion.

 

"The Azgeda have never been content," Lexa sighs, "with anything. They think me weak, for walking away, and they want me to—- to kill you. Take your power for myself. They will not pose a threat, though. Do not worry."

 

Lexa's mind has already begun working on new security measures, spinning ferociously since Clarke announced her desire to return with her. She won't let what happened before happen with Clarke. Never will Clarke move through claimed territory without a liege of guards attending her. A taster at every meal, before every sip of water. Someone to stand guard at her door. Clarke will have more protection than even she has, she'll make sure of it.

 

"It's too dark," Clarke shakes her head with a chuckle, bringing herself back to the present. "You'll get lost or Pix will run you into a tree." She rises to her feet and brushes off her backside, beginning to pad deeper into the dwelling. "You can stay here tonight if you'd like."

 

"Are you sure?" Lexa follows and stands awkwardly as she watches Clarke adjust the furs around Elva so there's more room on either side of her.

 

Clarke looks up to her with shining blue eyes. Eyes that seem to say everything she cannot. "I want you to stay, Lexa."

 

That's all it takes. That's all she needed to hear.

 

Lexa nods, smiles, and makes her way back to the opening to slide it closed in front of her. By the time she comes around the corner again, Clarke is pulling off her boots and undoing the long braid that usually hangs down to her waist. She watches shyly but follows suit.

 

Clarke settles into the bed first, closest to the wall as she pulls a sleeping Elva against her, giving Lexa more space. Without saying anything Lexa joins them and pulls the cover over herself, turning so her back faces the mother and daughter.

 

"Goodnight, Lexa."

 

"Goodnight, Clarke."

 

  
Lexa's on her side facing the opposite direction when she wakes, the weight of Elva is pressed into her front, her head tucked under her chin. She looks up to find Clarke watching her, her hands under her head as she faces them with a sleepy smile.

 

"I didn't want to wake you," Clarke whispers, "you looked so restful."

 

"Watching people sleep is creepy," Lexa responds with a scrunch of her nose and a growing smile that says she's joking.

 

"Sorry, I've been a cave hermit for nearly a year, I've lost all sense of social politeness."

 

"Well, then we'll just have to get you back to civilization as soon as possible before it gets any worse." Lexa runs a tender hand up and down the sleeping girl's back. Elva is one of the few people that don't know what she's done, doesn't judge her for it.

 

"When do you have to leave?" Clarke's brows pull together and she begins to worry her lip.

 

Lexa's eyes turn to pools of longing. "Now. I've already been away for too long, someone is going to be looking for me and I want to get back before the guards panic and set out to find me."

 

Clarke bobs her head once, her only response. She sits up to her knees. Carefully, she eases Elva's grip on Lexa and places her in her previously occupied section of fur so she can lie on her warmth. She tiptoes over to her boots and begins to lace them as Lexa follows.

 

When she's ready to leave, they stand at the entrance to the cave and Clarke, once again surprising her, embraces her tightly. They hold onto one another for several slow, breaths before they have to break away.

 

"Be safe," Clarke says, "and we'll see you in a week."

 

"You too," she reaches out to squeeze Clarke's hand. "It won't be long now."

 

And she's gone.

 

Clarke spends the week out in the trees and wading through the water as much as possible. Together with Elva, she cherishes the freedom that this little parcel of Heaven has provided them. They play games in the shade of the trees and they watch birds flit through the air chirping their songs. They only retreat to the safety of their cave once night has fallen heavily and sleep settles into their bones.

 

 

Lexa tries not to drive the horses too hard. She knows they're going to have to make the return trip soon and then with extra weight but excitement courses through her and she can't help but push them to go a just a little faster. The forest is a blur around her as they fly. The river comes into sight and she slows the horses to a walk and continues to follow it until Clarke comes into view, Elva in her arms.

 

She stands on the bank across from the cave, their things placed at her feet. When Lexa nears, both wave to her and she replies in kind.

 

Lexa laughs at the sight. "I could have helped, you know."

 

Clarke shrugs. "I managed."

 

It's part of the process. She brought herself to this place. She filled it with things and made it her home. She wanted to be the one that emptied it. It's cathartic—- or whatever.

 

An excited energy rustles through the trees as they fill the bags attached to the horses with Clarke's possessions. Lexa introduces the deep russet one to her as Rena. Says that she's hers if she wants her. Clarke does, thanks her with a glowing smile and stroke of the mare's cheek.

 

Clarke mounts and once she's settled, Lexa hands her Elva to place in front of her. And they're off.

 

The horses walk through the forest and it's past midday before they reach their destination. They keep up a string of conversation as they travel, flitting between Lexa answering questions about Polis and Clarke about the ark. For a while, she helps Clarke practice her Trigedasleng.

 

The tower comes into view. Crumbling and distressed but—- impressive. The height it hard to conceive from so far away but as they grow closer it's easier to measure it against the surrounding buildings and Clarke can't help but let her jaw drop.

 

"That's the tower? That's where you live? I thought that was just what you called it."

 

"It's where you live too." Lexa's voice holds a tremor of building animation. "Come, it's not much further now."

 

The trail turns this way and that, curving them through tree lines and over hills and around creeks. Purposefully hard to trek. You can't sneak up on Polis if you can't get there with ease.

 

When the gate, which is imposing, comes into sight, the guards atop the wall yell orders to one another and it begins to swing inward. Simply at the view of the Commander approaching. Lexa nods at each one as they pass through but does not speak to any.

 

"We're just outside the capital now." She points ahead to an invisible line that seemingly separates the city from the outside world, "It starts there. The buildings this far out are not used, they merely stand as a second barrier after the wall."

 

Clarke's senses become overwhelmed. There's so much to look at. So much to hear. So much to smell and taste. So much she wishes she could touch. They barely cross the invisible line and suddenly they're sucked into a world unlike anything she's ever experienced before. People call and run in every direction. Stands line the street hung with colorful cloths. A child chases a goat she assumes escaped down an alley.

 

She wants to cry. She doesn't, but it's only from a sheer force of will.

 

"People are going to recognize you," Lexa murmurs, leaning closer to her. Shouts of 'Heda' already ring through the air, but most eyes seem to be sticking to her. "You can react how you choose, but just know that they are all thankful for your sacrifice."

 

Clarke silently bobs her head.

 

In her lap, Elva's head whips back and forth. She has to keep a tight grip on her when she begins leaning out of the saddle as far as she can to get a closer look at everything they pass. The sight of the awestruck child makes both women chuckle.

 

A voice carries out above the others, seemingly coming from all directions. "Wanheda! Wanheda has come!"

 

A murmur through the crowd turns into a chant. All that surround them, moving like a wave as they continue forward, call out to her in reverence. Clarke ducks her head. She still doesn't know how to accept thanks for something she hates herself for doing.

 

Lexa motions to a crossroad and they turn off the main path onto a quieter road and then out onto a pitch of green. A stable sits further into the oasis. There, they leave the horses. Clarke parts from Rena with a scratch on her neck and a promise to return.

 

"One of the hands will bring your things up," Lexa says as they walk, Elva in her arms. Not yet relieving her to Clarke.

 

"Polis is amazing." Clarke softly bumps her shoulder into Lexa's. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

 

Lexa looks to her with a startlingly serious gaze. "I want to share everything with you, Clarke."

 

Clarke's breath sticks in her throat. She has to look away with a small cough.

 

They walk silently for several minutes before she realizes they're being followed. The hair on the back of her neck raise and her mind hums and thus she turns, not finding what she expected. Trailing behind them are four young women in long, sleeveless frocks that reach the floor. Each is strapped with a belt that is holstered with at least two daggers.

 

Wide eyed, Clarke turns to alert Lexa to their presence but she's already looking back at her, an amused quirk to her lips.

 

Before she can ask her to, Lexa explains. "They are my, and now your, handmaidens. They not only serve me as maids but as guards. When within the city, I am rarely out of the sight of at least one." She raises her brow and her tone turns playful. "It's easy to underestimate something that looks helpless."

 

Clarke spares another glance back. "What do you mean mine? Why do I need handmaidens?"

 

"For whatever you want, and then also for your protection. Did you think I would let you leave the safety of your cave without some sort of security? Whether because you are Skaikru or Wanheda or," her voice turns brittle, "because you are mine you could eventually become a target. I refuse to allow any harm to come to you, precautions have been made."

 

A swell of emotion grips Clarke once more. Oh, how Lexa has changed since they met. Though, not changed. Not really. Just allowing more and more of her true self to be seen.

 

"Okay." Not fight or argument or proclamations about her ability to protect herself.

 

Lexa must have expected her to resist because when she accepts her shoulders sag in relief.

 

They pass two more buildings, still skirting the heavily populated areas, and then they're in a wide courtyard and the base of the tower is before them.

 

Guards stand at every entryway into the square but people come and go without being stopped. With no cue Clarke can discern, Lexa turns to her and offers Elva. She takes her without complaint and they continue towards the tower, now with the handmaidens surging in towards them.

 

A few shouts of 'Heda!' and 'Wandheda!' carry through the air but otherwise, they pass into the tower without issue. It's dark within but their eyes adjust quickly and a barren room materializes. The only thing residing in the room is an empty shaft. Without getting close to it, Clarke would guess that it runs all the way to the top floor.

 

"We have to use the lift because the stairs are unstable. It's quicker this way, too."

 

She takes her elbow and leads her closer, just in time to watch a platform rise from the darkness. Lexa leads her on and without waiting for the handmaidens to join them, calls out for them to move. Clarke stands speechless and wonderstruck at all she's seen since entering Polis' gates. She cannot fathom how she once thought of these people as savages.

 

She turns to Lexa. "This is so much more than I thought it would be, even with all you told me."

 

Lexa chuckles in response. "It is certainly a spectacle. People feel safe here and tend to express their happiness of that through everything they do."

 

Elva squirms in her arms until she's turned around to face Clarke. Silent questions fill her features. Clarke expects that this is more than a little overwhelming for the babe. Can she even remember being around other people? Living somewhere other than their cave? Clarke whispers quiet reassurances until the lift comes to a stop with a small jolt and they're looking out into a busy corridor.

 

People glance in their direction and nod to Lexa as they step off but nothing more. Four new handmaidens wait for them, and when Lexa begins to lead her through the bustle, they follow. They have to pass through several doors and down a few other hallways before the noise dims and they tumble into silence.

 

"This is my room," Lexa points as they pass a room with two guards placed before it, "and this is yours."

 

Her room is just past Lexa's and the only outward difference seems to be that she has three guards instead of two. Clarke looks to her with a raised eyebrow that asks 'overkill?' but keeps quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!!


End file.
